


Love Story

by rommunisms



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Character Study, Gay yearning, M/M, Period-Typical Sexism, T-rating for Herb's active imagination, Unrequited Love, as far as Herb is aware anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rommunisms/pseuds/rommunisms
Summary: Set during episode 6x13 "Far Beyond the Stars". Herb struggles with a challenging assignment.
Relationships: Douglas Pabst/Herbert Rossoff, Odo/Quark (implied)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 47





	Love Story

A sun-blasted terrace against an exotic cityscape. An insectoid alien monster looming above a scantily-clad young woman. A scene of ravishment and rescue under a scorching faraway sun.

"Jeez, Roy," Herb mutters around the cigarette between his teeth. "This really is garbage."

Nobody responds because there's nobody around to hear; it's well past closing time at the _Incredible Tales_ office. The only reason Herb is still here is because he's been putting this draft off for days, and he knows Douglas will be furious if he has nothing to show him by the following morning.

He's used to working late, though. Deadlines usually motivate him, and it's not like he has anyone to go home to.

Herb stubs his cigarette into the ashtray along with the remains of its fallen comrades, and picks up Ritterhouse's drawing again.

 _Honeymoon on Andorras_ , Douglas had titled it. Technically it's not a bad piece of work, even if the subject matter is ridiculous. Roy Ritterhouse has a talent for insects; the carefully rendered jointed legs and huge eyes are obviously mantis-inspired, but Herb can't help but be reminded too of the butterflies he used to collect as a kid. He can't claim a similar level of expertise when it comes to judging Roy's skills at drawing women, but he figures this latest attempt at a space pin-up looks pretty anatomically accurate, at least. Young, curvy, her hair somehow perfectly styled despite her situation, just how the magazine readers liked it. Something about her face reminds Herb more than a little of Kay.

_("This is Mr Pabst's favourite," Roy had said with a leer, and Herb had seen the resemblance, and his stomach had clenched a little despite himself, even though he knew Douglas would never, not with a married woman—)_

Herb groans in frustration and leans back in his chair, staring up at the cracking plaster of the office ceiling. Trust him to take on the most difficult of the week's assignments. This is what he gets for trying to show off, he thinks ruefully.

Sure, he could just write a standard damsel-in-distress story. Woman falls prey to savage beast. Heroic husband rides in on a white stallion to save her from the monster. Something in Julius's style; fantasy epic barely disguised as science-fiction. He could even make it a bit sexy, he thinks, add a bit of spice - all subtextual of course - have the monster try to devour her as she lies helpless on the tiles, maybe pin her against a wall, that kind of thing.

Herb's face heats slightly as he imagines being trapped against a wall by long limbs and the weight of a solid body. 

No, no, he thinks, shaking his head as if to dislodge the picture. Too simple, too easy. Any old hack could churn out a story like that, he thinks. That's not what they pay him above the going rate for.

That's not what _Douglas_ pays him above the going rate for.

Herb lights another cigarette.

_("Why doesn't Herb leave if he hates it here so much?" he had heard Julius ask Benny earlier that day, when they thought he wasn't listening. "We all know he's far too good for this magazine."_

 _"Who knows?" Benny had replied in his quiet voice. "But for someone who's always talking about leaving he's sure been here a long time.")_

Perhaps the woman could be the monster, Herb thinks. A shape-changing monster that could change its form to lure in male creatures to be devoured. The hero naturally gets the wrong idea, thinks the insect is the dangerous one, narrowly escapes falling victim to the woman himself. Kay wouldn't like that at all, he thinks, and smiles.

He tries to imagine what Douglas would think of it. 

A vision of his prickly, patronising editor swims before his eyes in the darkness of the gloomy office.

"A bit predictable, isn't it, Herb?" the editor seems to say, eyebrow raised, sheets of paper clasped in his hands. "The evil woman tempting the innocent man into sin. Not exactly Asimov."

Herb swears, crumples up the sheet of paper he's been doodling on, and throws it at Douglas, who dissolves into the dark.

_("Seriously though," Julius had said, this time to Kay, as she helped herself to some more ice tea. "Herb and I might not get on but you can't deny he's good. He could be winning awards for some of his stuff, if he wasn't working for a rag like this that nobody ever reads."_

 _Kay had laughed. "Honey, there's only one person on Earth whose opinion Herbert Rossoff cares about," she had said, jerking her head towards the editor's office, "and he's sitting on the other side of that door.")_

Herb stares at the drawing for what feels like the thousandth time.

She doesn't actually seem that unhappy to be being ravished by an alien, he thinks, frowning. She almost looks like she wants it to happen.

Unbidden, the image returns to him of being pushed against the wall by a long, lean body, his hands pinned above his head, hot breath against his face. Not trapped, or trying to get away, but wanting it to happen, _longing_ for it—

Honeymoon on Andorras.

His eyes widen. 

Now there was an idea.

"A love story," he exclaims to the empty office, and laughs. "A love story! Girl meets bug!"

Well, that wasn't his usual style at all. Douglas certainly couldn't accuse him of being predictable. He might accuse him of being crazy, maybe, or seriously sleep deprived, but certainly not predictable.

Sticking the cigarette behind his ear, he loads a new sheet of paper into his typewriter. It could be a tale of unexpected romance, he thinks. The girl falls for the alien when she sees its true character beneath its ugly exterior. Like a fairy tale... the Frog Prince, or the Beauty and the Beast; kind of like one of Julius's stories after all, he thinks, laughing again. Only in this version, the beast stays a beast, and gets the girl anyway. He's always hated the way the fairy tales end.

_("You have an affinity for garbage, don't you?")_

He glances over to the drawing again, propped up against a stack of old magazines. The woman avoids his gaze, eyes cast demurely downward, reclining in anticipation of the passionate embrace of her alien lover.

"We should all be so lucky," he mutters, and starts to type.

The next morning he's standing in Douglas's office, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, watching the other man as he silently reads through the manuscript. Douglas sits completely still, a stone statue compared to Herb's anxious jittering. Only his eyes move, back and forth, as he reads.

After some time, the eyes stop moving.

"Well?" Herb says. "What do you think?"

Douglas looks up at him, face impassive. For a long moment, they're frozen like that, each looking at the other, tension simmering in Herb's stomach as he waits for the verdict. 

He's only half joking, when he talks about quitting. He certainly wouldn't walk out of the office in broad daylight the way he threatens to - that's just for the dramatics, just part of the routine he acts out with Douglas because its safer than trusting himself not to say what's really on his mind. But that doesn't mean he hasn't considered it. A new job, a fresh start, far away from _Incredible Tales_ and this damp, drafty office and his annoying co-workers. Far away from infuriating, oblivious Douglas Pabst and his stupid doughnuts and his gentle smile which Herb would move mountains just to see.

But he never does leave. He's been not leaving for ten years now.

Herb's never been much of a gambler - he's never had the money for it - but he imagines that this is what it must feel like watching the wheel spin, or waiting for the dice to fall. Waiting to see if he's succeeded in impressing the one person on Earth whose opinion he truly cares about.

He has nothing else to offer him except stories.

"Douglas?"

"I love it," Douglas says, and smiles at him.

**Author's Note:**

> I just really love this little gay communist okay and I want Quark to be appreciated in at least one universe!!
> 
> I did my best to avoid anachronistic language or references but I wasn't alive in the 50s so apologies if anything sounds off.
> 
> (Yes, I did drag "The Man Trap", but only a little.)


End file.
